On the Beach
by acorngirl
Summary: COMPLETE IN 8 CHAPTERS. The Undying Lands promise eternal life and happiness, but peace of mind still eludes one hobbit. A tale of Frodo's life after he sailed West and his wait for Sam. He finds new purpose and distraction from his pain.
1. Misery

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkein's estate. Even   
the one that I made up is just an inspiration to play in that world.  
  
Author's Note: This is my first LOTR fanfic. I hope it doesn't get lost in the plethora of   
post movie stories. Please read and review with fairness. Constructive criticism that   
will help me improve my skills greatly appreciated. Thanks in advance.  
  
On the Beach Chapter One: Misery Loves Company  
  
  
Far to the west from the shores of the Grey Havens lie the Undying Lands. Removed   
from the circles of the world, these lands are a place of eternal life and everlasting   
happiness. Apart from Valinor where the divine Valar reside lies the island of Eressea   
where the elves have taken refuge from Middle Earth. Upon its eastern shore where the   
sun still rises and sets, a place has been set aside for the few mortals who have earned the   
right to dwell in the Blessed Realm.  
  
Despite the seductive beauty of this land, one mortal found it difficult to succumb to the   
contentment he believed he once desired. He stared out at the blue ocean and felt the   
knot in his stomach grow heavier. He fought the bitterness away as the water receded   
from the sandy beach that stretched out before him. He shouldn't feel this way. He knew   
it was disrespectful after all that had been granted to him. He had a life free from pain   
and worry and days of comfort that stretched out to infinity. But yet he was alone. He   
was not ready to reach for the bliss that was his due.   
  
He was restless.  
  
Unbeknownst to him, the Valar had taken note of his condition. They watched him with   
growing curiosity. Although they never proclaimed to understand everything about   
mortality they knew one thing. Mortals never chose to be happy with what they had.   
They always wanted something else. Whatever had been denied them.   
  
That was the essential truth beneath the conflicted emotions of Frodo Baggins. He   
wanted something but he felt unworthy to ask. He needed something but he did not know   
what.  
  
The Valar knew, but granting this simple hobbit's wish would take time and   
circumstance. The Valar had promised never to interfere. They could only watch him   
and pity.   
  
He knew in reality that he was not truly alone. He lived in a land full of pleasant, happy   
elves all who respected and revered him. Gandalf and Bilbo were there as well. He   
loved them greatly and delighted in their company. But they had become occupied with   
their own pursuits, content in the quiet passing of their lives. They were old and   
retirement was their happy reward for lives well lived.  
  
Frodo was neither old nor content. His quiet and gracious manner made it impossible for   
him to lament his loss. He reserved his moments of restless introspection for his time on   
the beach. Visiting this spot where the ships brought in their passengers had become a   
daily ritual. There he had first stepped on the shores of the Undying Lands.   
  
He sat in solitude for hours each day letting despair and bitterness run their course   
through him. No one could know how he suffered. The shame would be too much. He   
would remain on the beach until he could face the cheerfulness of a friend or until the sun   
set. More often than not of late, he returned home in darkness.  
  
On this sort of day the sound of fast approaching footsteps pulled Frodo out of his dark   
thoughts. He looked up to see the sullen face of an elf girl, a child, probably no older   
than twelve. Hobbits were rare enough in Eressea. Children were completely unheard   
of. She seemed just as surprised to see him there. Her feet had carried her along a path   
without knowing their destination only to take her away from something obviously   
unpleasant. Her face looked much like he felt inside. He could tell that she had been   
crying. She simply stared at him unsure if she should go and if she did she had no idea   
how to start.  
  
Frodo ventured a smile. "Hello."  
  
"Hello," she replied, her expression unchanged. Her voice came out as a tiny sound, soft   
and faraway. She glanced back behind her with uncertainty as if she thought something   
fearful followed her. When her eyes met his again she seemed softened somewhat with   
relief. "What are you doing?" she asked.  
  
"I am waiting for a friend," Frodo replied.  
  
She glanced back behind her once more, than she looked back thoughtfully at the spot   
next to him on the beach. "May I wait with you?" she asked shyly.  
  
He smiled at her. "Of course," he replied. He felt a surge of warmth within him that he   
could not describe. To his infinite surprise, his smile was genuine.  
  
They sat in silence together until sunset. Then he politely took his leave. He turned once   
to see if she remained on the beach. She had begun to make her way back up the path   
which had brought her to him. She did not look back.  
  
On the next afternoon, he found her waiting for him. They exchanged polite greetings   
and then as they had the previous afternoon, they sat together in companionable silence   
until the sun began to dip below the horizon. Although they did not speak he found his   
thoughts turned to her. Who had brought a child to Eressea? Why was she so unhappy in   
a land which promised infinite bliss? What was she running from?   
  
On the third day Frodo asked for her name.  
  
"Enaiowen," she told him simply. She did not look away from the surf. She no longer   
seemed to be afraid or angry but something had taken hold of this girl, something that   
filled her with such dread that she could not bear the sound of her own voice.  
  
Frodo did not know what darkness had touched this girl but he knew the marks well   
enough. He bore them in his own way. His misery had somehow brought itself   
company.  
  
"May I ask your name, sir?" she asked suddenly. She glanced at him briefly as a   
necessary act of courtesy then cast her eyes down to her feet.  
  
Frodo felt a flash of embarrassment. He had assumed that she already knew his identity.   
He and his uncle being the only two hobbits in all the Blessed Realm, he thought his   
uniqueness would grant him widespread familiarity. That had not been an attention he   
craved but nevertheless it had been what often occurred. Everyone knew him. Everyone   
but this girl.  
  
He smiled warmly. Her ignorance was a most forgivable crime. For her he did not have   
to be the Ringbearer. For her, he could just be… "Frodo," he said.   
  
TBC  
  
Chapter Two will clear up the mysteries behind Enaiowen's existence in Eressea and   
Frodo will get an unexpected job. 


	2. Shame

Disclaimer is the same as Chapter One.  
  
Author's Note: I had to split up my chapter two because it was getting much too long. I   
hope you'll forgive me. Please let me know what you think.   
  
On the Beach, Chapter Two: Shame   
  
  
An early morning sun shone upon the lane as Frodo approached the door to his home. As   
his hand reached for the handle he paused. He heard voices beyond his door, the hushed   
whispers of those who lay in wait.   
  
He tensed as he slowly opened the door. They would not find him unsuspecting. The   
voices stopped abruptly as each waited for the other to do what they expected.  
  
Frodo opened the door too slowly for his intruder's patience. Through the small opening   
he had already made, a small face peered out at him. This face was followed by a second   
and then a third.  
  
The sun streamed in and illuminated three small hobbit children looking out at him. For   
a moment Frodo thought that he had somehow come to the wrong house.  
  
The children saw his uncertainty and the eldest ventured to speak. "Are you home,   
Papa?" she asked.  
  
He smiled. "Yes, I am home," he heard himself speak.  
  
The door swung open wide and through it came the three children. They flung   
themselves into his arms and buried him in embraces that knocked him to the ground.   
They laughed and all began speaking at once of their delight. He hugged them all and   
gave them each a kiss in turn. At this moment his heart had filled with a happiness that if   
not completely foreign to him it may have been only a glimmer of a distant memory.  
  
Frodo opened his eyes. The morning sun broke through the window to light his room   
with a golden hue. The happiness he had experienced only a moment before, receded to   
the corners of his mind. He had only been dreaming. His thoughts reached out   
desperately to grasp every detail to commit it all to permanence. It all slipped away so   
quickly, distilled to only three simple memories.  
  
There were children. He held them closely. He was happy. Those thoughts were enough   
to carry him through his morning with the traces of a smile lingering at the corners of his   
mouth.  
  
These traces caught the eye of his midday visitor. Gandalf sat in the shade of a tree as his   
host brought him a cup of tea. This had become a weekly ritual in a place where no one   
was supposed to keep time. He watched his younger friend closely, knowing that his   
thoughts pulled his attention elsewhere. Great experience had taught him that with   
patience his questions could be answered before he even posed them.  
  
This occasion proved to be no different. As Frodo sat with his own tea he roused himself   
to introduce the subject of his thoughts. "Is it possible to dream in the Blessed Realm,   
Gandalf?"  
  
The wizened wizard stared hard at a stone several feet away from him as if that rock   
contained all the secrets of the universe. "I believe anything is possible here. You still   
cling to many of the practices of your mortal life. You still eat and drink," he said, lifting   
his cup as an example. He turned his attention to his companion with warm concern.   
"You still sleep and in your sleep if not also in your waking hours, you still yearn. That   
is all you need to dream. You don't have to, but you, Frodo Baggins have made it   
possible to dream in the Blessed Realm. What did you dream about?"  
  
Frodo smiled at the memory and the sound of his voice as he spoke of it aloud.   
Somehow telling someone made it more real. "Children. Three smiling, laughing   
children." His voice softened as he ventured further into the memory. His eyes showed   
his distance. "They called me 'Papa'. I can almost remember the feeling of their little   
arms around me." He looked at Gandalf now with a sudden realization. "Do you think   
that I could have been seeing Sam's life?"  
  
Gandalf's bushy brow furrowed but he still held his smile. "You wonder if he is using   
your gift to him wisely." He made his remark as a statement, not as a question. Frodo   
left all that he had and all that he could have had to his beloved Sam. The old wizard   
often wondered what life had been denied to poor Frodo. He saw what its lack had done   
to him.  
  
Frodo would not give in to jealousy. In many ways he felt that his life was better off   
lived by Sam. The words he spoke were true. "I know he is. I know he would. I don't   
need the reassurance, but it warms my heart to think that I could see it."  
  
Gandalf clapped his hand around Frodo's shoulder. "Anything is possible, dear friend.   
Perhaps one day you will know for a certainty."  
  
Frodo smiled at his response but he began to think of other concerns. "Gandalf, is it   
common for children to dwell in the Blessed Realm?" he asked.  
  
For a moment, Gandalf seemed startled by the question. He had to consider his answer   
before giving it. "This place is for those whose lives have reached an ending. A child's   
life should have its own bliss without it being provided for them. Why do you pose the   
question?"  
  
"I have met a child, an elf girl," Frodo answered. "Several days ago she came upon me   
on the beach and since then not a day goes by that I do not meet her there."  
  
The wizard began to laugh, squeezing his friend's shoulder and causing him to look up at   
him quizzically. "You have made a friend then," he remarked. "No matter through what   
lengths you have gone to remain alone, she has snuck by and found a way to your heart."  
  
Frodo saw more behind Gandalf's words. "Do you know her?"  
  
He nodded. "Enaiowen," he said, "Yes, I know of her."  
  
Frodo turned his full attention to the wizard, laying his cup in the grass beside him. So   
many questions had formed in his mind since he met the girl but he had no way of finding   
the answers. He wanted to help her but he did not want to pry. "Tell me of her what you   
know. There is a great sadness about her. She has yet to confide it to me."  
  
The smile all but vanished from Gandalf's face. He knew the answer to his friend's   
question. The graveness of it darkened his eyes. He shook his head sadly. "Her tale is   
not for me to tell. There is much of it that she does not know herself." Seeing Frodo's   
sudden sympathetic reaction, he lightened his tone and his smile returned. "Do not   
concern yourself with discovering her secrets so quickly. I have a feeling that the one   
who knows her best will soon seek you out."  
  
The words reached Frodo's ears like a warning. "Should I be worried?" he asked.  
  
Gandalf laughed again. "Not at all, dear Frodo. Not at all."  
  
Later that afternoon, Frodo discovered Enaiowen hunched over in the sand. Her fists   
balled up into her face and her body shook with uncontrollable sobs. He watched her in   
silence, not wanting to intrude on private tears. He had never seen an elf cry and to   
watch her now filled him with great pity. Elves were not meant to weep as she did. Not   
in the Undying Lands. Not anywhere. As a child still she should be laughing and   
playing. If she came upon any distress she should find solace in the comforting arms of   
her mother, not spilling her tears alone on the sand.  
  
Frodo could hold himself still no longer. He had allowed the tragedy of the scene to   
continue too long. He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. The bones in her   
shoulder seemed surprisingly sharp and shockingly small. She cringed at his touch and   
looked up at him with angry red eyes.  
  
She was ashamed, not because he saw her crying but because she wanted him to find her   
in this miserable state. Too long in her life she had no one to turn to and now she had   
selfishly pushed Frodo into the place of friend. She surprised herself with the greatness   
of her wont. She fitfully wiped her eyes with her palms and turned away from his   
sympathetic and inquiring face. She felt it was far more just that she force the tears away   
than to force him to comfort her. "I'm sorry. I was being foolish," she muttered through   
clenched teeth. She twisted her shoulder slightly to escape his grasp but found she could   
not muster enough will to bring herself to her feet. She merely sat in the sand wishing   
she had behaved differently.  
  
Frodo crouched down in front of her. She would not meet his eyes. "It's not foolish.   
Tears are the most honest expression I know. They come from emotions so profound that   
they must be shared," he said gently.  
  
When she finally looked up at him, he saw that with effort she kept the tears from   
returning. "But I shouldn't make you share them."  
  
Her voice trailed off. From the wide-eyed look of surprise on her face and the soft   
crunch of sand behind him, Frodo knew they weren't alone. A tall, dark-haired elf,   
Guillyn, sneered down his aquiline nose at them.   
  
Instinctively Enaiowen sought Frodo's hand.  
  
"Ah, there is my errant student," Guillyn said with a velvety voice. "Enaiowen, I am sure   
you have troubled Mr. Baggins enough. Come with me."   
  
The last three words carried a chill with them. Frodo could feel Enaiowen tremble as she   
attempted to comply. He feared what would happen if she left with this elf. He held   
tightly to her hand and tugged it gently to reassure her. "She is no trouble, Sir," he   
offered innocently.  
  
The dark elf's lips tightened with disapproval. "Indeed. I'm sure she would like to think   
she is a treasure," he spat at her with contempt. "Tell him what you really are."  
  
Enaiowen snapped her hand away from Frodo. She pulled her arms about her and   
cowered before them. Her eyes clouded with shameful tears. Whoever this elf was he   
practiced control over her with fear.  
  
Frodo heard his voice rise in defense of the girl. "What are you saying? She is a child!"  
  
Guillyn ignored him. His eyes focused on the small, trembling child as if she were a   
serpent hiding in the sand. "Tell him," he repeated in a deadly whisper.  
  
Her words came out haltingly but Frodo could tell that she had spoken them before. "I   
am a menace," she said dully, "and I will grow to be the downfall of my people."  
  
Frodo froze with horror. The words meant nothing to him but the notion that she had   
been made to practice their recitation filled him with dread.  
  
Her tormentor smiled with satisfaction. "I sense a note of defiance," he said as he   
approached her vulnerable form. He towered over her like a specter, a vision of terror   
that would pluck her from the ground and crush her beneath his menacing gaze. "We   
must work on your obedience."  
  
Frodo threw himself between them, determined to protect her. "I do not know who you   
are, Sir, but that is no manner to speak to a child."  
  
"A child?" Guillyn replied. "Is that what she would have you believe?" The farce of   
this hobbit, less than half his size standing in opposition to him had not been lost on him,   
but he paused. The Ringbearer required respect. Although he never asked for it himself,   
his past deeds warranted it from all the elves. From all peoples. Guillyn told himself that   
the hobbit simply misunderstood the gravity of the situation. Luckily for him, he was   
well-equipped to explain it. "This child killed her own mother while she was still in her   
womb. Only a creature of evil could do something that vile. She must know what she is   
and her spirit must be diminished before the darkness in her grows."  
  
The mystery around Enaiowen began to reveal itself. Frodo saw the reason for her   
despair. It stood in front of him. He stood his ground between them. Nothing could   
convince him that this child was all he claimed her to be. Evil is not born. It is taught.   
For all his claims that his methods would destroy her evil, this dark elf had done nothing   
but nurture it. She needed to know that there was another way. "You use heavy words,   
Sir, and you speak of times that have not come to pass," he said, his voice holding an   
edge of warning. "I may not have the grasp of the situation as you do but while I am   
here, you shall not harm her, with your words or any other weapon you devise."  
  
Guillyn snorted in disgust, but he knew that he could not oppose the Ringbearer. He   
acquiesced unwillingly. "I can see you are resolved in her defense, for now. I shall take   
my leave." He turned to leave but paused to regard the girl behind the hobbit.   
"Enaiowen, your father shall hear of this."  
  
Frodo watched him leave. He was not satisfied that he was gone until he vanished   
completely from sight and hearing. Once he was sure that they were alone he stood   
before the stricken girl. She had buried her face in her hands but made no sound. She   
had shut out the world hoping that she had hidden herself enough to become invisible.   
"Enaiowen," he called to her gently. "You do not have to fear. He has left."  
  
From the shelter of her arms, her voice came out small and strained. "I do not fear him.   
It is what you must think of me that I fear."  
  
Frodo pulled her face out from her arms. He held her chin to direct her gaze to his face   
alone. "Look at me," he told her. She looked to him. Her tears had made her eyes an   
impossible shade of blue. "Enaiowen, are you evil?"  
  
She whimpered suddenly as if caught in a trap. "He says I am."  
  
"And who is he to say that?" he asked.  
  
"He is my teacher, appointed by my father to instruct me." There was the wound so raw   
and tender. That horrible dark elf was someone she was supposed to trust. Her father   
had trusted her in his care. How deeply did the wound reach?  
  
"Does that make him right?" Frodo asked.  
  
Enaiowen had begun to shake her head but she averted her attention again to behind her   
friend. She did not shake but her eyes grew wide. "Father," she spoke part in greeting,   
part in warning.  
  
Frodo turned to see a golden-haired elf with a familiar face, one he'd not seen in many   
years.  
  
Glorfindel revealed no expression as he called to his child. "Enaiowen, the hour is not   
yet late, but I wish to have a word with Mr. Baggins."   
  
TBC  
  
As I indicated in the beginning this was supposed to include Glorfindel's conversation   
with Frodo. Since this is already twice as long as I intended it to be that portion will have   
to wait until next time. You will see how she came to the Blessed Realm and what her   
father fears most. Also, Frodo will get his new job but I bet you can probably guess what   
it is. Please review to help me make this the best it can be. 


	3. Sins of the Father

Disclaimer is the same as in Chapter One.  
  
See the end of this chapter for author's note.  
  
On the Beach—Chapter Three: Sins of the Father  
  
For the first time in more than a week Frodo stood on the beach without Enaiowen.   
Already the setting seemed strange. Moments before he had faced down an elf more than   
twice his size. Not one for confrontation, he already felt too drained to deal with another   
one. He hoped that Glorfindel did not bring unpleasantness with him but by the somber   
look upon his face he knew he was not a happy elf. Frodo braced himself for whatever   
he had to say.  
  
Glorfindel circled around the hobbit slowly surveying the view of the sea. "Frodo, it has   
been many years since our paths have crossed and once again you hold my fate in your   
hands." His tone was grave.  
  
"I hold no one's fate but my own," he replied nervously.  
  
"You misunderstand me," Glorfindel said, slightly startled. Only now did he meet his   
gaze. Frodo saw at once that he seemed to be in pain. "I am in you debt. It is because of   
you that I have discovered Guillyn's treachery. A change has come over her, subtle, but   
enough to give me hope. In searching for this positive influence I instead discovered   
what had cast such a shadow over her." He looked away again and focused on the   
indentation Enaiowen had left in the sand. "I am horrified that I have allowed myself to   
be deceived."  
  
"She never spoke of it to you?" Frodo asked.   
  
Glorfindel crouched down and traced the outline of his daughter's footprints with his   
fingertips, so small, so delicate. His words sounded as if they came from far away. "He   
had her believe his abuse was a necessary requirement of her instruction."  
  
"How long had she endured this?" He was almost afraid to hear the answer.  
  
The elf sighed deeply and brought his hand back to him. "Too long. He has damaged her   
in a way that may be impossible to repair."  
  
"He spoke as if he had the right to treat her maliciously," Frodo said. The venom in   
Guillyn's voice was still fresh in his mind. "He said that she had killed her mother."  
  
Glorfindel faced him again. "Elves do not die in childbirth, Frodo. Such a thing is   
unprecedented among my people. A worse omen could not even be imagined for the   
birth of a child. Many foretold that she would destroy us all." He paused as he gathered   
his words from across distant memories. "Some, albeit a small minority, saw that she   
was a necessary part of our salvation. All agreed that she was to be removed from   
Middle Earth. She was placed in my care and I brought her here."  
  
Placed in his care? A realization came to Frodo. "You're not her true father then," he   
announced carefully.  
  
The elf shook his head gravely. A gentle breeze came upon them suddenly and the air   
distorted the gentle shapes in the sand. "I am her father by everything but blood. I love   
her as my own. Guillyn's mistreatment of her wounds me deeply. She may find ways to   
heal from his abuse more readily than I will for allowing it to happen."   
  
They remained in silence for a long while. Glorfindel finally sat in the sand, folding his   
long legs in front of him. "Enaiowen can never return to Middle Earth," he said   
suddenly. "That is the one thing everyone agreed upon. Her fate is sealed there. For her   
to return would mean to lose her forever."   
  
"How is that?" Frodo asked.   
  
"She will lose her heart there," he spoke. The words seemed to come directly from a   
cryptically written fortune. Frodo thought immediately of Arwen. Was such a fortune   
told at her birth? If her father had known, would he have tried to prevent it? Glorfindel   
was determined to rewrite Enaiowen's future. "Whether it is for good or ill, I will not   
resign her to the fate. Her destiny will lie elsewhere. There is another land that the Valar   
keep watch over. When she comes of age she will be sent as a warden much as the Maiar   
were sent to Middle Earth. Her life is devoted to preparing her for this duty. Only now I   
am without a teacher." He looked to the hobbit intently. "That is what I wish to discuss   
with you."  
  
"Me?" Frodo said with surprise.  
  
The elf looked at him in earnest. "I need someone I can trust to be her teacher. Gandalf   
suggested you."  
  
The hobbit was aghast. Gandalf had obviously been working in the background of his   
life with the mischief of a meddling in-law. "Why would Gandalf put me forth? I know   
of nothing that I could teach an elf."  
  
"Materials will be provided. You will have everything you need," Glorfindel began to   
explain calmly.  
  
"I can't," Frodo protested. "I'm not an elf."  
  
Glorfindel got to his feet and stared down at him. "Do you want me to choose another   
elf?" he demanded. "Guillyn was beyond suspicion. I'll warrant that even now he will   
claim to have her best interests at heart." Frodo looked up and saw the wounded father   
who only wanted to protect his daughter, to make it all up to her. To forgive himself.   
"You and I know better. We see the child behind the portents. You have been a comfort   
to my daughter when I could not. You have been her defender."  
  
Visions of himself standing between Guillyn and Enaiowen flashed through his mind.   
"You saw that?" he asked modestly.  
  
Glorfindel nodded. "I was shamed by it. I should have been the one here today. If not   
for my bad judgment she would not have needed defending." He laid a steadying hand   
on the hobbit's shoulder. "Frodo, do not let her suffer for my poor insight again."  
  
"Very well," he relented, forcing the fear from his mind. What did he have to fear   
anyway? Embarrassment should be the least of his worries. "I'll try for Enaiowen's   
sake, but I warn you—I'm not a teacher."  
  
The elf smiled. "But you care for her," he said. "Right now she needs that more than   
anything."  
  
  
A soft rapping upon his door pulled Frodo from his dreams the next morning. He sat up   
in his bed with the sound of the children's laughter still echoing in his mind. The dream   
had been different this time but the feeling of contentment still remained. He   
remembered them racing ahead of him, giggling as he tried to reach out for them. He   
could have caught them if he had wanted to but to catch them would mean the end of the   
game and the end of their laughter which was more beautiful than music to him. He   
smiled to himself. How wonderful Sam's life must be.  
  
Upon opening his door he saw an unusual sight upon his doorstep. He almost laughed   
aloud. "Bilbo!" he cried. "What are you doing here?"   
  
The older hobbit sat amidst a pile of dozens of books of varying size, color and age.   
Upon his lap sat open a large brown, leather tome which he had been reading with great   
fascination. He looked up at his nephew and smiled. "Good morning, dear boy," he   
greeted without getting to his feet. "Gandalf told me that you've been given the task of   
teaching the cloistered elf. I came to look at the books."   
  
Frodo joined his uncle on the doorstep. "I guess that name describes her well enough,"   
he sighed, surveying the books at his feet. "I don't suppose Gandalf told you his part in   
getting me the job."  
  
Bilbo chuckled softly. "No, he didn't but it's rather easy to guess. He has been   
especially worried about you." The look he gave Frodo told him he shared the concern.   
"You spend too much time alone."  
  
Frodo smiled grimly in response. He didn't want to address the problem his uncle had   
brought up. The thought that he had become a concern to anyone troubled him enough.   
He turned his attention back to the books. "There seems to be quite a lot here," he   
commented.  
  
Bilbo closed the book in his lap and picked up another to inspect its spine. This one was   
blue and had the gold engraving of a dragon on its cover. "Yes and they seem to run   
along the same subject lines," he remarked with interest.  
  
Frodo picked up a small pile and read the titles. 'A Field Guide to Demons of the   
Western Continent', 'An Encyclopedia of Fairies and Other Mischievous Spirits',   
'Magical Water Fauna of the North Sea'. The titles of the books continued in similar   
fashion. Some focused on geographic location while others divided their subjects into   
their basic elements. All of them concerned spirits, or demons or monsters, more than he   
could ever have imagined living in Middle Earth.  
  
Frodo frowned at the overwhelming number of them. "What am I supposed to be   
preparing her for?" he asked.  
  
Bilbo patted his nephew on the back enthusiastically. "For adventure, my dear boy!" He   
climbed to his feet, gathering several of the books around him into his arms. "I almost   
envy you. Through these books you'll be able to see a new world and all the creatures   
that live in it. The safest kind of adventure you could imagine." He carried the books he   
held into Frodo's home.  
  
Frodo remained alone on his doorstep amidst the remaining books. He didn't see   
adventure like his uncle did. It was pain, and sadness, and fear. It was never returning   
home again. He thought of Enaiowen and the awesome responsibility Glorfindel had   
placed on his shoulders. "It won't be safe for her," he said sadly. "I'll simply be reading   
about these things. She will have to face them one day. How she fares will depend on   
how well I can teach her."  
  
He tried to gather the rest of the books into his arms but found that there were far too   
many. One of them tumbled off of the stack he made. As he tried to catch it, he lost four   
more. Bilbo returned from inside and began to help him carry the ones he had dropped.   
Frodo looked down at the fallen books and sighed. "It will take me years to go through   
all these books."  
  
Bilbo laughed. "I believe it's supposed to."  
  
Frodo had spent half the day deciding which book with which to start. After he and Bilbo   
brought them all in and sorted through them, they counted thirty-two in all. Thirty-two   
books on mystical creatures that inhabit a world he would never see. He would have to   
learn about them all, how they lived, what powered them, how to kill them. He had to   
know it all and pass on the knowledge to her.  
  
He had settled on a medium-sized red volume which separated the spirits and creatures   
geographically. Each chapter began with a brief history of the region. Of all the books it   
seemed to be the most basic.   
  
He had to begin somewhere. He sat on the beach and waited.   
  
Enaiowen approached him from the same path that had introduced her to him. She   
looked at him and smiled weakly. She seemed nervous, hesitant. "May I ask you a   
question?" she said instead of a greeting.  
  
"Of course," he replied.  
  
"Are you being punished?" she asked with a frown.  
  
Inwardly he had asked himself that question many times. He still worried that he would   
fail her somehow. Letting her know his doubts would be a bad start. "No, I consider this   
an honor," he told her, hoping he had hidden his discomfort well.  
  
She sat down next to him, pulling her legs close to her chest. "Well, I'm not very happy   
about it," she confided.  
  
"Why not?" he asked with concern.  
  
Her hand made a sweeping gesture taking in the beach and the sea and the air around her.   
"This was special. This was a place outside my life, like an escape. Now it's just another   
place to have my lessons." She sighed deeply and unhappily, placing her chin upon her   
now folded arms. "All I wanted to do was sit on this beach and wait with you."  
  
Frodo smiled. "Don't think of it as work, then," he was surprised to hear himself say.   
"Think of it as something to pass the time while we wait."   
  
TBC  
  
Author's note: I hope this chapter wasn't too boring. I had to fill in a lot of blanks so   
that things would make sense. I promise the remaining chapters will be VERY   
enjoyable. The next one will be a little light-hearted. Years have passed and Enai' will   
be putting some of her lessons into practice. Frodo's dreams will continue but he will   
find that he isn't the only one having them.  
  
The chapters following the next will be very angsty. I have to take care to write them   
well and that may take time. (Don't worry, I am working up to Sam's arrival!) Since it   
seems that I only have a handful of faithful readers, let me know if you want me to notify   
you when I have updated. I worry that with the sudden influx of LOTR fanfics that my   
story tends to get buried. 


	4. Testing the Waters

Disclaimer is the same as Chapter one.  
  
Author's note at the end.  
  
On the Beach—Chapter Four: Testing the Waters  
  
Despite his initial doubts, Frodo became an excellent teacher. Enaiowen was a capable and enthusiastic student. Learning about fire demons, water spirits and sand serpents had not become the chore she thought it would be. The beach remained the haven she wanted and her teacher stayed the friend she needed. The healing had begun for both of them, but each knew the process may never be completed. Each held a pain in their hearts, one more hidden than the other but both deemed necessary for life. The pain made it possible to hope. Frodo was not ready to let it go. He was waiting.  
  
Until then, he had something to occupy him.  
  
As the years passed, Frodo devoted most of his time and thought to his appointed task. To the delight of his close friends, he left little time for his once sullen introspection. He took his job very seriously and soon became an authority on the monsters and magical creatures of this place quite simply referred to as 'the New World'.  
  
He spoke little of his dreams which continued every night without fail. They had become a treasure to him. His window to what could have been. But there were doubts. No matter how much he wanted to believe it, he couldn't be certain if the life he saw was Sam's.  
  
Glorfindel too noticed a similar change in his adopted daughter. The darkness that once lingered behind her eyes had all but vanished. She had grown in grace and loveliness. Reflections of her damaged soul would surface from time to time in her words or in her quiet manner. They would vanish easily enough as the sun moved across the sky and the time for her lessons on the beach drew near. She poured herself into her studies. Nothing made her happier than making her teacher proud.  
  
Lately Frodo's instruction had taken on a new tone of urgency. The time had come for knowledge to be put into practice. Enaiowen would be taken to the New World in supervised excursions.  
  
Field testing was about to begin.  
  
Frodo fretted fitfully over the coming of this day. No one would tell him what sort of monster she would be exposed to first. When he offered to plan the testing, Gandalf simply laughed at him, saying that if the decision were left to him, his charge would be facing butterflies and field mice. Gandalf was right. Challenging her through knowledge was one thing. Challenging her through danger was quite another.  
  
He waited with her much as he had everyday but this time he brought no books and restrained himself from imparting yet another lesson. He was there to support his student, nothing more.  
  
"Are you nervous, Enai?" he asked her as she checked her short blade for the ninth time. She had dressed simply to allow for easy movement, with an elven gray cloak clasped at her throat. Her chestnut hair had gathered in braids at the nape of her neck. She looked ready by every aspect except her face, which wore a grim expression.  
  
"No," she answered simply without looking at him. She paced restlessly around him, her soft boots kicking the sand up in small, glittery sprays. Her eyes scanned the horizon obsessively. After a long pause she added, "I just don't want to do this."  
  
Frodo took her hand to comfort her, forcing her to stand still. She looked to him and smiled. "It's not that I'm afraid. It's more hesitation than anything else. My life is speeding down a path trying to reach this goal."  
  
"It's the goal you fear," Frodo finished for her. He had the same fear. When the thought of it would creep into his mind, he pushed it away wildly. He couldn't allow himself to think of it. It reminded him that his loneliness had not gone away for good. It had been waiting for him, quietly, until his distraction left him.  
  
"There is one bright thought," she said suddenly with a note of cheerfulness.  
  
"What's that?" he asked, mirroring her smile.  
  
"Perhaps my father will be my guide," she said with hope. "I've only seen him for moments now and then. He'll inquire to my well being and leave once he sees I am fine. He must be terribly busy, but I do miss him so." With a long sigh, she added, "I suppose one day I'll understand."  
  
Glorfindel was the warden that she would one day become. She saw her future in her father's actions.  
  
Realizing that she had turned the mood to a somber one, she tugged on Frodo's hand and began to laugh softly. "I spend more time with you than anyone. If my father keeps taking these extended trips, one day he'll come home to find his daughter has turned into a hobbit."  
  
Frodo feigned insult and pulled his hand away. "There are worse things you could be!" he declared.  
  
"I know," she chuckled. "We've spent the past few years studying them."  
  
Frodo watched her smile fade as her eyes focused beyond him. He followed her gaze and spotted a figure approaching them.  
  
Enaiowen's disappointment was evident. She didn't see her father. Gandalf was to be her guide.  
  
As the old wizard came closer, Frodo turned to his student with a look of sudden worry. Nothing he could do would prepare her to his satisfaction. "Enai, be mindful of the passing of time and don't follow unless you know—"  
  
Enaiowen had gracefully placed her fingers across his lips, stopping his last minute lecture. She smiled warmly and bent down and kissed him on the forehead. "Recitation will not save me now, Master Frodo," she said softly. "Trust that you have taught me well and that I will keep my wits about me."  
  
"Good luck," he whispered while their heads remained close. Without another word she turned to meet Gandalf.  
  
Frodo watched them go and tried not to worry. It was just a test. Gandalf would not let her get hurt, he told himself. Yet, he couldn't help but wonder about Bilbo and how he must have felt when the Fellowship left Rivendell. Helpless, left behind, waiting for their return.  
  
  
  
Loch Leary, Scotland, 1822.  
  
Any chance traveler to the area would happen upon a most unusual sight: an elderly gentleman robed in white sitting on a log smoking his pipe and a petite, thin, young woman wading out in the water. Luckily enough for Gandalf the wizard and Enaiowen the elf not a soul passed by. The day was dreary, rainy and miserable much like a great many days in Scotland.  
  
Enaiowen stood up to her waist in the frigid waters of the lake facing down what appeared to be, for all intents and purposes, a dark gray horse. This was no ordinary horse. Most horses don't live in lakes. In fact, no horse entices their victims to deep water to drown them and devour their flesh.  
  
As her first field test, Gandalf chose to pit her against a kelpie.  
  
Enaiowen remembered enough to know no to try to climb astride this demon horse. Its shiny coat served as an adhesive. One touch and she would be hopelessly stuck. The demon would drag her to the depths of the lake to kill her. She kept well out of its reach, waiting for an opening or a sign of weakness. She dodged its every attempt to strike her with hooves or teeth.  
  
The kelpie snorted in fury at her elusiveness. It reared up out of the water with a terrifying scream and then suddenly turned and dove beneath the surface.  
  
The water became very still. Enaiowen could see nothing in the murkiness below her save her own reflection. The sound of her panting filled the silence left by the horrible beast. She looked around her worriedly trying to guess its next move, but the minutes ticked by too slowly. She began to wonder if she had driven it away. She looked to Gandalf who didn't appear to be paying the least bit of attention to her or her predicament.  
  
Suddenly the beast sprang out of the water behind her. Clamping down on her shoulder with its powerful jaws it pulled her under. As it disappeared beneath the surface its tail crashed upon the water with a thunderous boom and then they were gone.  
  
The water became still again. Gandalf puffed quietly and unconcernedly on his pipe.  
  
Enaiowen's hand broke the surface and began to grope wildly in the air. She was searching.  
  
Gandalf's foot casually kicked a leather bridle out to her outstretched hand. Her fingers wrapped around it desperately and disappeared beneath the water with it firmly in her grasp.  
  
Several moments passed until the peacefulness of the scene was broken by a majestic but somewhat unholy gray horse coming out of the water. It ran onto the shore and stood as if waiting. It stomped and snorted in frustration at having been caught. Upon its head Enaiowen had strapped the bridle, engraved in gold with a cross.  
  
Several paces behind it, with much less enthusiasm, the elf girl dragged herself out of the cold water.  
  
"Next time, remember to take the bridle with you," Gandalf called to her.  
  
Enaiowen looked to him miserably. "There isn't going to be a next time. Is there?" she asked in weak plea. Covered in mud and slime with seaweed trapped in her hair, she resembled a water demon herself.  
  
"No," Gandalf replied eyeing the horse with admiration. "You didn't kill this one."  
  
She sat down next to the wizard on the log. She was soaked to the bone and beginning to shiver. With her left hand she reached up and gingerly touched her shoulder where the monster had seized her. The skin was not broken but it was sore. Much like her pride. "That was an accident. I panicked."  
  
The old wizard smiled. "Clever use of my flask," he remarked.  
  
"Bottled water destroys these beasts," she said absentmindedly.  
  
"It wasn't water," he informed her wryly.  
  
She caught the coy expression on his face and began to laugh. "All the better then."  
  
The kelpie whinnied impatiently at them.  
  
Gandalf rose to his feet. He took Enaiowen's cloak and threw it over the demon's flanks.  
  
She watched him with curiosity. She really needed her cloak at the moment. It was the only thing she had left that hadn't been at the bottom of the lake. She frowned at him when she guessed what he had planned. "You aren't planning to keep it, are you, Gandalf?" she asked accusingly.  
  
He smiled back at her making his intentions clear. "He is not for me, dear Enaiowen. I have a steed with fantastic stamina. I can ride him for days at a full gallop and he would never tire. But in my current capacity, I no longer have the need to ride to or from great peril with great speed. This creature may provide my Shadowfax with the challenge he's been missing." He placed his hand on the kelpie's neck. It bowed its head, leaning into the old man with a gesture of begrudging subservience.  
  
"I'm not sure this is an ideal companion, Gandalf. This is a water demon. Surely you know what it eats," she protested from her seat on the log. She was hardly in a position to argue with him but she began to wonder about the judgment of her guide.  
  
Gandalf mounted the beast in one fluid stride. He reined it towards Enaiowen and offered a hand to pull her up behind him. "Trust this old man, child. I won't feed it anyone you know."  
  
She took his hand and came up behind him. "I find little comfort in that."  
  
Gandalf laughed. "Well, at least find comfort in that you came out of your first adventure unscathed."  
  
Her shoulder ached and her limbs felt full of lead, heavy with little strength remaining to move them. She leaned against the wizard with weariness. "I find adventure highly overrated," she admitted quietly.  
  
"You sound like your teacher," he told her as the kelpie carried them swiftly over the countryside.  
  
"Master Frodo teaches from the vantage point of someone who will not meet these monsters. He frets over the dangers I will face as if I have a choice," she said. "I do not long for adventure but it is my duty. It is being thrust upon me. I'm not sure he understands that. No one is forcing him to live his life a certain way." Of what she longed for, she would not speak. A dream came to her nightly that she held secretly and selfishly in her heart. A dream of laughter, joy and peace, something she had not known and doubted she would ever find.  
  
Gandalf held his words for a moment. She knew nothing of Middle Earth or of the perils its people had faced. She knew nothing of the Ring and very little of its bearer. She based her ideas on the world as it was presented to her. "Perhaps he understands better than you think," he said finally.  
  
Perhaps it was time for her to see the world through a different set of eyes.  
  
TBC  
  
Author's Note: Information on the kelpie comes from "A Field Guide to Demons" by Carol K. Mack and Dinah Mack. It's a cool book.  
  
This was an easy chapter to write. The next few will be difficult. I want to make them REALLY GOOD, so if there is a delay, please forgive me. (I am a mom and have to do my writing while my kids are sleeping.) Unless I combine two of them, there should be three chapters left, full of angsty goodness for all growing boys and girls. Next chapter, as you can probably guess, will be Enai's reaction to Frodo's past. How will she deal with the tale of the Ringbearer?  
  
Sally Gardens asked me if Frodo will ever get "what could have been"? My best answer is no and then yes. Stayed tuned you'll see. He's not quite ready yet. 


	5. Scars

Disclaimers are the same as in Chapter One.  
  
Author's Note is at the end.  
  
On the Beach: Chapter Five--Scars   
  
  
Life can surprise you in ways you can never imagine.  
  
If Enaiowen should be graced with long life, she would look upon this day as a crucial   
turning point. Even those of immortal lives have moments where everything changes,   
where they are not the same person who took the breath into their lungs the moment   
before they must release it in a cry. All at once the mysteries of her life revealed   
themselves to her. She knew everything but understood nothing. She sat numbly, taking   
it all in like an empty vessel filling with water. But she couldn't digest it. Most of it   
would just sit on her mind waiting for her to let it sink in.   
  
She was transformed.  
  
The truths were revealed to her gently. No one wanted to cause her pain. They did not   
want her to misunderstand.   
  
Her father hid the stories of her homeland from her as a means of protection. He had   
protected her from a fate that was as murky as the water of the Scottish Loch. A fierce,   
primal protection of a father to keep from losing his own. She never knew why. She   
simply believed that he always had her best interests at heart. She trusted him. It was not   
like him to behave irrationally, to hide an entire world from her simply because she might   
go there and never come back.   
  
He did not know her. He did not know her at all. She wanted nothing of that world. She   
would die happy if she never stepped upon its shores. She knew what she wanted but for   
duty and for honor she kept those wishes silent.   
  
He had not behaved irrationally. He had behaved selfishly, locking her away in   
ignorance as if that would save her from her fate. The irony lay in the fact that the life he   
had planned for her held more danger than if she had remained in Middle Earth.   
Truthfully, wardens led treacherous lives confronting demons and maintaining natural   
law in the New World. It was an honorable duty for an elf and he was proud of her for   
her achievements. But now she couldn't shake the doubt that he wasn't protecting her   
from her fate. He was simply choosing it for her.  
  
She wept.  
  
But her tears were not for her father's deception. They were for her own. Things that   
had been before her for years but she wouldn't see. She had been too self absorbed in her   
own grief, she failed to acknowledge the suffering of another. She had no words for   
Glorfindel now. He didn't understand. He watched her cry in utter bewilderment. He   
had not seen what Gandalf had guessed.   
  
Her attachment to her teacher had grown stronger than anyone could have foreseen.   
  
She did not see it either. The power of her emotions blindsided her. As the details of his   
trials and suffering unfolded she felt them as acutely as if she experienced them firsthand.   
All of her rage and blame turned towards herself.   
  
She should have known. She should have understood.   
  
Finally she spoke. "I have to go to him," she announced. The words came out with   
effort as if she'd nearly forgotten how to speak. She stumbled to her feet reaching for the   
door only a few paces away. She had to get away, from her father, from Gandalf.   
Although their actions towards her may come from well meaning intentions, they could   
not assuage her guilt.  
  
Glorfindel was taken aback. Why should events, which occurred so long ago, effect her   
so? He began to regret allowing Gandalf to persuade him to reveal the tale to her. He   
had expected her to be frightened of how close they had all come to disaster, but she   
seemed to care little about that, as if it was merely a minor detail. He thought she would   
show sympathy for her teacher's ordeal but her true reaction seemed to shake the   
foundations of her soul. Her sudden desire to go to the hobbit troubled him deeply.   
"Why? What could you do?" he asked her with a hint of fatherly warning.  
  
She stopped. Her hand gripped the door to steady her. "I must say 'I'm sorry'," she said   
with emotion. She turned to face her father. "As should we all. You have made him pay   
the price for the folly of others. You think you honor him by bringing him here. You're   
only prolonging his suffering." Once again her eyes held the haunted look of the little   
girl unworthy of goodness. He had left her healing to another and now he paid the price.   
He was the unworthy one now. She would never find comfort with him.  
  
Glorfindel reached for his daughter but she slipped away. She was lost to him.  
  
Gandalf placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Let her go. She has her own demons   
to confront."   
  
A soft breeze caressed his hair as the foamy water edged closer to his feet. Never had   
Frodo approached the water alone before. He had always watched it from a great and   
safe distance. Some instinctive fear had held him away from it, something he never   
really tried to understand. Water could be fickle. At one time in his life water was the   
only thing that kept him alive. At another time, it took his parents from him. He had   
never wanted to guess what mood the water might have. He simply respected it and kept   
his distance.  
  
But he hadn't always left the water alone. When Enaiowen was younger her favorite   
reward for her study was to search for shells in the surf. He would go with her and she   
would always laugh when the tide caught him unaware. Water was a happy thing for her.   
He didn't want her to think otherwise. Demons and monsters could live in the waters she   
studied, but in waters at their beach she should find only pretty shells.  
  
They hadn't searched for shells for a long time.  
  
"I search the waters for only one thing now," he thought unhappily. His mood had been   
somber even before Gandalf had visited him.   
  
His dreams had deserted him. He hadn't realized how much he needed them until they   
disappeared. He almost believed that he had been visiting another life, the ways things   
could have been. The way things should have been. But he no longer went there. Now   
when he closed his eyes at night he only found sleep. Why they stopped, he did not   
know. He tried not to ponder the unfairness of it.   
  
He had new worries.  
  
How would Enai react to his past? He knew her well enough to guess. She would worry.   
She would feel badly for him. Sympathy from her was not something he was prepared   
for. He had learned to shut out the others. Through the years, he had already let her in   
too far.   
  
"I know who you are waiting for," her voice announced from behind him.  
  
Frodo would not turn to look at her. He didn't want to see her face. He wasn't ready.   
"How much do you know?" he asked her cautiously.  
  
"Everything," Enaiowen answered. She settled herself into the sand as if she were simply   
awaiting the day's lesson. She sensed his tentativeness. "Well, everything they can tell   
me. Views of those who merely watched. I've heard nothing from you. I can only guess   
at the pain you must feel."  
  
Her voice sounded remarkably steady. He felt himself relax a little. Perhaps he could   
leave her guessing. He didn't have to tell her. Maybe she won't push any further. "I   
don't know what I could tell you," he said finally. He watched as the clouds began to   
form in the sky over the sea, still not ready to face her. "Some of it is so distant I could   
almost imagine that it was someone else. Other things are still too fresh in my memory."  
  
She sighed deeply, hugging her knees close to her chest. "I've been so naïve," she told   
him sadly. "I've had this vision in my head of what a hero is. Someone as big as the   
world. Brave, strong, majestic, who never ran away from adventure. Someone who   
never wanted to run away."  
  
Frodo finally turned towards her. She surprised him with her simplicity. She appeared   
no different than any day that came before. He couldn't picture what his fears had   
concocted of this day. Reality had banished that image away. She was no terrible,   
beautiful elven queen bewitching him into revealing his soul. She was Enaiowen. He   
had nothing to fear. He almost smiled. "You're describing you father," he observed.  
  
"I suppose I am," she replied. The image formed in her mind did resemble her father in a   
remarkable way. She couldn't escape his influence, even in her dreams. "In a way, he's   
my ideal. What I'm supposed to be. But there are things that I can't be, not even for   
him. How wrong I was about everything, about him, about you." She met his eyes and   
he found himself unable to move. "You have been standing in front of me and I never   
saw it. I only saw you as my teacher. I expected that when I would meet you today, you   
would somehow look different. The person who was my teacher and the Ringbearer   
were two different people. But you're not. You're the same that you've been everyday   
that I've known you." She cast her gaze down to her hands, small and delicate. "So it   
must be me who has changed. Today, I know the truth but I haven't figured yet how to   
deal with it. I almost miss the girl who just yesterday was battling kelpie in the New   
World."  
  
He approached her now. For a moment, he had forgotten the delicacy of the moment.   
The teacher in him had taken over. "Gandalf mentioned that you were hurt, that it   
grabbed hold of you," he said with sudden concern.  
  
"Oh," Enaiowen uttered in surprise. "It was just my shoulder," she then told him   
dismissively. The gravity of a kelpie's bite mattered little to her now.  
  
"May I see?" he asked her earnestly.  
  
"Oh, of course," she replied automatically. There was nothing wrong with his request.   
She pulled back the wide collar of her tunic to reveal her shoulder, mottled with dark   
bruises where the beast had taken hold and pulled her under. She hoped that the old   
wizard had not revealed too much of her ordeal with the demon. She didn't want Frodo   
to worry. "It's just a couple of bruises, not really even a scratch."  
  
He stood over her, closely inspecting her wound. He held her arm with one hand as his   
other lightly traced the bruises on her skin. "I can make out the teeth marks," he said,   
trying not to picture her in the deadly battle.  
  
Suddenly he froze. Images of kelpies and the rest of the world vanished from his mind.   
He shut his eyes tightly as she reached for his shoulder. He could feel her fingers lightly   
brush against the fabric of his shirt. He wanted everything to stop. He wanted her to   
leave him alone. He wanted to run away but he didn't move. Too close. Too close. He   
didn't realize it until it was too late.  
  
"May I see?" she breathed.  
  
No! no. He shook his head not daring to open his eyes, praying for the moment to pass.   
Her touch would not leave him. "The wound is old," he managed to say. The words   
nearly caught themselves in his throat.  
  
"It's still fresh in my mind," she said quietly.  
  
Almost against his will, he opened his eyes and saw her so perilously close. Her   
expression filled with an intensity he could not describe. He felt himself falter. He   
caught her hand and held it tightly but he could not get away. Should he let her see?   
What would she find when she looked upon it? Would she see what he had hidden from   
all who cared for him?  
  
Slowly he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled back the collar as she had done. For the first   
time since he left the Shire all those years ago, he revealed his wound to the eyes of   
another. He closed his eyes. He did not have to look upon it. Its angry mark scarred his   
soul as much as it did his body. He released her hand and she reached up to touch the   
mark left by the Nazgul's blade.  
  
He could feel her breath against his face. It chilled his cheeks as it drew across his fresh   
tears. As badly as he wanted to, he could no longer feel her touch upon his shoulder.  
  
"It's cold," she whispered softly. She spoke of the wound. Its chill had never left him.  
  
"It will never heal," he cried out in quiet despair. He reached up to take her hand again,   
to pull it away. "Not even here."  
  
Tears brimmed in her eyes now too. She gripped his hand tightly. "Why didn't you tell   
me?" she cried. "Did you think I could not understand? Did you not think that my   
shoulders were strong enough to bear this burden?"  
  
"It's my pain, Enai," he sobbed. "I cannot make you share it."  
  
She pulled him closer. Their foreheads touched. His words echoed from her past. They   
were wrong when she spoke them. They were wrong again. "But you have shared in my   
pain," she said quietly, almost confessing. "More times than there are stars in the sky. I   
cannot take any of it back. Let me take some of yours in its place."  
  
He swallowed hard. His strength had all but failed him. He would have fallen to his   
knees if he were not leaning against her. He still wanted desperately to run away. "It's   
not something I can give," he told her finally.  
  
She reached up and gently wiped away a tear from his cheek. He could not mistake the   
sadness on her face. "Do you think you will be able to give it to him when he comes?"   
she asked.  
  
He pulled away from her, surprised by her question. Did he really believe that his   
healing would come from Sam? He honestly didn't know. "He was there," he answered   
defensively. "He understands. He bore the burden for a time as well."  
  
She reached out for his hand, wounded by his response. He misunderstood her. "I do not   
speak of the Ring, Frodo," she said gently. "He has everything that was denied you. He   
may understand pain and loss but not so keenly as you. Your loss is what makes you   
unable to heal."   
  
Frodo began to shake. She had discovered his terrible secret. He could hide no longer.   
She knew. "I didn't lose it," he told her as the tears overtook him again. "I gave it   
away."  
  
His legs gave way and he fell to his knees. His sorrow released itself in sobs that came   
over him in waves. His tears blinded him and his cries deafened him but he knew she   
was there. He could not keep her away. He no longer wanted to.  
  
Her arms came around him in a comforting embrace. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I'm so   
sorry."  
  
He lifted his head to face her. She had not bewitched him. He had wanted to tell her.   
Only her. He never sought sympathy, just understanding. She was the only one, save   
Sam, who could give it to him.   
  
For a moment, Frodo heard the sound of the children's laughter in his mind. Echoes of   
the treasures he had given away. Would he ever hear them again?  
  
A tear slid down Enaiowen's cheek. He reached up to catch it. When he pulled away   
from her he realized he had stopped the tear with a kiss.  
  
He scrambled away from her, horrified by his actions, but only more so by the weakness   
from which they came. He didn't understand what made him do what he had done. That   
is what terrified him the most.   
  
It was a simple kiss but somewhere in a place he could not reach, he knew it was   
something more. He had to get away and this time he found the strength. He couldn't   
speak. He couldn't look at her. He began to run away before he pulled himself   
completely to his feet. He had betrayed himself, but worse he had betrayed her. If he   
never saw her again, it would not be punishment enough.  
  
Through his shame he could not hear her calling out to him, pleading with him to come   
back. He would not allow himself to hear, because if he heard, he might want to answer.  
  
  
TBC  
  
Author's Note: I worked REALLY, REALLY hard on this. It had to be just right. I   
wrote out the dialogue three times before I got everything said that I wanted to be said. I   
really wanted to create something of beauty, something that would make you guys say   
"wow". Please, please, PLEASE, if ever I needed your feedback, send it to me now. I   
want to know if I achieved my goal.  
  
The next chapter may even be more tricky than this one, so if I delay, it means I'm   
working on it really hard. Hopefully it will be worth the wait. The next one is the last   
and it's the one you've all been waiting for. Sam's arrival in the Blessed Realm!!   
Frodo's reunion with him will be bittersweet as it coincides with Enai's departure.   
  
Thanks always for your wonderful support. It keeps me going. 


	6. Prelude

Disclaimer is the same as in chapter one. This chapter contains part of a quote from The Return of the King.  
  
Author's note at the end.  
  
  
  
On the Beach—Chapter Six: Prelude  
  
Hobbits were not designed to crave power. They desired the comfort of a home, the love of family, the simple pleasures that many other races took for granted. The One Ring knew only promises of a scale far too grand for them to ponder. It spoke to their hearts but it did not use a language they really understood or would listen to. That was the key to their great resistance to its power.  
  
But the Ring had learned. In its last few moments of existence it found the way to one hobbit's heart. It spoke to him of the things he most desired. It sent him dreams of home and family and comfort. It showed him that without it, he would never know any of them. At the last moment of his quest he listened. He believed and he gave in.  
  
"I will not do this deed," he had said in one moment of sublime selfishness. But fate had saved him and the world. The loss of his finger had been the price for his weakness that day.  
  
He would gladly give the other nine so as not to lose his friend this time. He would not forget what weakness had done to him. It robbed him of rational thought and eventually his pride.  
  
The Ring had been destroyed but its promise still lingered.  
  
Had it been what it seemed, he would not have run. But that was no kiss of comfort he laid upon her cheek. For a moment, no matter how miniscule it was, he reached for something, a vision, a future. Even now he could not understand but he saw something.  
  
A promise?  
  
As the weakness passed he knew he must have been mistaken. She could not have guessed what passed through his thoughts. How could she know when the misunderstanding lay within himself? The future could not lie with Enaiowen. No matter that she was an elf. No matter that he was her teacher. Her future lay on a different path, far away from him. He would not reach for something that would ultimately slip away. He had said more than his share of good-byes to be naïve about what happens afterwards. He could not trust that she would come back.  
  
He could not erase the moment or banish the thoughts that plagued him then but he could not just let it lie. He wanted to explain, even though he barely had a grasp of it. He had to try to make things right.  
  
The sky had grown dark and heavy with rain. Had Frodo not become so preoccupied with finding Enaiowen and what he would say to her, he would have realized that he had never before seen rain, a true downpour, in all his days in the Blessed Realm. As his feet tramped through the wet puddles he became vaguely aware that he had no idea how to find his young elf friend. With weariness and no small amount of self-pity he glanced around the foreign elven road for a shelter from the rain.  
  
The deafening sound of the pouring rain obscured the warning of approaching footsteps. Only his powerful voice alerted Frodo to Gandalf's presence. "Of all the hobbits I have ever known, I would have thought that you most of all would have the sense to stay out of the rain," he announced.  
  
Frodo looked up to see the wizard's shape looming in the darkness before him. "Gandalf!" he cried with a mixture of relief and embarrassment. "I think I am lost."  
  
Gandalf smiled at the double meaning of his friend's statement. In a way he had been lost for quite some time. Only now as he stumbled blindly in the rain did he come to realize it. "So it would seem," he replied kindly. He swept his arm in a wide gesture and at his silent command the rain began to dissipate.  
  
Frodo blinked away the water that had run into his eyes. He had not realized how wet he had become. "I was looking for Enai," he admitted reluctantly.  
  
Gandalf smiled wryly. "You will not find her here," he said. He gently guided the hobbit to a dry bench in an alcove of a building several steps off the road. "She sent me to find you. She's worried about you."  
  
Frodo sat down with a heavy sigh and buried his wet face in his equally wet hands. The memory of his departure from her became once more overwhelmingly vivid. "I don't know what came over me," he said honestly.  
  
The wizard placed his arm around his friend's small shoulders. "A great many years of sorrow and sacrifice," he said gently. Frodo had often surprised him with his strength and fortitude but he no longer had to be strong. What the hobbit had viewed as a failing, Gandalf saw as an emotional letting that was long overdue. "But you underestimate your student. She is no longer a child. She has spent many years watching you and understands you better than you think. She alone had the power to see the wound that has caused you so much pain."  
  
Gandalf placed his hand upon Frodo's head but it drew him no further from his sadness. "You have worked too hard to hide it," he continued. "She wants nothing more than to help you heal. As do we all."  
  
Frodo finally looked up and gazed out at the empty lane. "My healing should not be placed in her hands," he replied.  
  
Gandalf frowned. He suspected that Frodo had someone else in mind. "Do you still have those dreams?" he asked suddenly.  
  
Frodo thought of the hope his dreams had brought him but only sadness graced his face. "Every night," he answered looking to a puddle at his feet as if it were a window to his other life. "Every night, save the last two," he amended quietly. "I fear they've left me forever."  
  
Gandalf regarded his friend carefully. "They became very precious to you," he remarked, knowing full well the implication of that word. The dreams held power as much as the Ring ever did. Because Frodo could not see them as anything but pure and innocent, he had become blind to what they were doing to him. "Tell me, is it enough to only dream?"  
  
"I can't have anything else," the hobbit said sadly. "Those children may be dreams but they were mine. I know they were."  
  
"Of course they were your children and your dreams," the wizard assured him. "Can you imagine if you had been allowed to view Sam's life? To see everything that you did not have?"  
  
Frodo jumped to his feet and faced Gandalf shocked, an edge of defensiveness in his voice. "I will not begrudge Sam his life!" he declared more loudly than he intended.  
  
"Yes," Gandalf agreed calmly, "but will you begrudge him you own?"  
  
"Never," Frodo replied softly and he believed it. "I left it all to him so he could keep it safe. I couldn't have it."  
  
Gandalf smiled suddenly with such inexplicable warmness it brought confusion to his younger friend's eyes. "Your life, nurtured over the years by the finest gardener in all the Shire. It has grown and blossomed in ways that will astonish you. You have seen its fruits in your dreams and in an elf's tear. Did it ever occur to you that when Mr. Gamgee comes to the Blessed Realm he might return that life to you, fully healed?"  
  
Frodo shook his head. "How can it be returned, Gandalf?" he asked. Gandalf presented an image of beauty designed to give him hope but he could not see it as the wizard did. His life was not a thing to be planted and tended in a garden. It was choices made long ago by a broken soul. "That life may be healed, but I am not."  
  
Gandalf took a heavy breath and leaned upon the staff he held in his hands. "If you truly wish to heal, Frodo, you must either learn to live that life or you must let it go." He looked at the hobbit hard and spoke with a great sternness. "You have placed all your hope on this one event, believing that your healing depended on it. What if Sam was here and you still were not made whole? What then?"  
  
As Frodo listened to Gandalf's words, tears began to well in his eyes. He was right. He had been expecting Sam's coming to be like a return to the Shire itself. This was not the Shire. It never could be. People came here at the end of their lives, as Sam would be as well. "I'm asking too much of him," Frodo admitted finally.  
  
Gandalf steadied himself on his staff as he pulled himself to his feet. He laid a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "Taking care of you was his sacred duty, Frodo. It was an extremely selfless act when you took that responsibility out of his hands. Do not undo that act. The Blessed Realm is not a place for sacred duty. Leave that to the wardens."  
  
"You're right," Frodo agreed, placing his hand on top of Gandalf's. He held it to his shoulder for a moment. He had made a decision. "When he comes, he should find only peace. I have not the power to grant that to Enai, but to Sam, I owe him nothing less."  
  
"And to yourself," Gandalf added.  
  
Frodo smiled grimly. "That may be more difficult, but if I know Sam, he won't be able to rest otherwise."  
  
  
  
The day was beautiful, glorious in fact. The previous evening's shower seemed to bring new life to the landscape. Perhaps the trees and flowers knew what this day would bring.  
  
A Gardener was coming to the Blessed Realm.  
  
Or perhaps the weather in this part of Eressea was as Gandalf mused, a reflection of Frodo's feelings. The unusual rain seemed fitting, as did this day's radiance.  
  
Frodo himself had brightened at the news of the day's arrival. His eyes had sparkled and he couldn't help but laugh with joy. While he had promised himself not to rely on his old companion's presence to cure him, he could not help but feel the melancholy lift from his soul. His anticipation had grown over the years. Nothing could dampen his expectations.  
  
He had left his books out. He looked forward to showing Sam how he had occupied himself over the years. He smiled, imagining Sam's delight at hearing of the strange and wondrous creatures of the New World, some much more grand than oliphaunts.  
  
When he could contain himself no longer, Frodo left for the beach to await the coming of the ship from the East.  
  
Gandalf sat alone in Frodo's home to await his return. He busied himself with plans for Enaiowen's next field test. He would welcome Samwise Gamgee in due time. Frodo deserved the purity of the moment, untarnished by the presence of others. He felt certain that word would have reached Enaiowen. He trusted that she would know how best to deal with the reunion.  
  
Frodo had not waited on that beach alone.  
  
At the sound of approaching footfalls, Gandalf looked up from the book he held. They were not the soft, patient steps of a hobbit. These feet wore hard-soled boots and walked with great urgency. Before a hand could reach up to knock, he opened the door.  
  
Enaiowen looked at him startled. "Gandalf?" she gasped with surprise. Her eyes darted to the interior of the home in a frantic search. "Where's Frodo?" she asked.  
  
"He is at the beach," Gandalf answered. He now saw her for the first time. She was no simple elf girl wearing soft-soled boots and a tunic too long for her small frame. She stood before him in the full regalia of a warden of the New World. From her tailor-fit vest and leggings to her shimmering cloak and her golden torq, she had been dressed in a manner that demanded respect. Even the braid of her hair gave an almost regal air to her face. She had aged far beyond her years. She seemed weary as if her attire was too heavy for her to wear but he understood her demeanor. The weight of her dress burdened her more with its meaning than with its heft. "Enaiowen, you wear the crest," he stated.  
  
She gave little regard to his statement or his presence, stating simply. "I am a warden now. My duty has called me." Her words sounded stiff. She had practiced them so that she could say them with ease. Nothing would be easy for her ever again. She pushed past the wizard and entered Frodo's home.  
  
Gandalf followed her frowning. He watched as she grabbed a blank parchment and her teacher's quill. She did not even pause to sit down but simply stooped over the short desk and began to write furiously. As he watched her he realized that she had begun to erect an emotional dam. Red rimmed her eyes from the tears she had already shed. How hard did she have to hold them back now? Her entire morning must have been dedicated to her preparation to leave. Had she fought it every moment? Or did she just let it happen, knowing that she was powerless to stop it? He sensed the irrational fear of a father. When did Glorfindel tell her? "Your father has rushed you too quickly," Gandalf told her. "Your field testing has barely begun."  
  
"I know," she said quietly. Her writing paused only briefly. She did not even look up as she answered him. "I frightened him yesterday. He fears I will deny my post and disgrace him."  
  
Gandalf folded his arms across his chest. "It is not disgrace he fears."  
  
Enaiowen blew her breath out in a note of disgust. "Damnable prophecy," she muttered quietly. She straightened herself as she sealed her letter. She laid it upon an open book sitting at the edge of the desk. She had written Frodo's name across it in a beautiful script of impossibly tiny letters. She now looked to Gandalf as if her sight went through him. She had built her walls high but they lacked strength. They would crumble easily. "Nevertheless, the die is cast. I am to leave within the hour."  
  
She could not even bring herself to say good-bye to him. What words had she exchanged with her father to bring her this resolve? He could not help but look at her with great pity. She moved and spoke like an automaton, not giving free will to her thoughts and actions. To do so would unleash a torrent. She stumbled past him towards the door. The setting was too comfortable, home, safety under the watchful eye of someone who truly cared for her. She could have none of that now. Her life lay in the cold and desolate arms of duty. One more step and the girl would be lost forever.  
  
"Frodo will not be happy with a note," Gandalf said, stopping her at the threshold. He turned to face her, to watch as her resolve began to break down. "You are far too dear to him."  
  
She stood at the edge. She nearly flung herself out the door to make herself leave. She couldn't do it. "And he to me," she whispered. She turned her face up into the sunlight. She could feel the beach beckoning to her. "But they will not let me say good-bye. I have to go." Her will gave way. Her back leaned against the open door behind her but even that could not support the weight of her sorrow. She slid to the floor and began to weep. "I have to but my heart is aching for me to stay. What can I do?" Her hands reached out to the wizard in supplication. "Gandalf, please, tell me what to do. They won't let me say good-bye."  
  
Her tears cascaded down as her desperate sobs left her gasping for air. Gandalf knelt down next to her and took her hands into his own. "Only you can decide your own fate, Enaiowen," he told her. "Not me, not your father, not even your teacher. Only you. I cannot tell you what to do but I can provide you with enough time for a proper farewell."  
  
She looked up at him. Hope flickered in her eyes. She took a quavering breath to slow her tears. "The beach?" she asked breathlessly.  
  
Gandalf squeezed her hand and smiled comfortingly. "Master Samwise arrives today."  
  
TBC  
  
Author's note: First, I know that I promised you Sam's arrival in "the next chapter" when I wrote the last chapter but this ended up being much more complicated written out than it was in my mind. To make it up to all of you, I went ahead and wrote Sam's arrival and it's in the next chapter. You won't have to wait for it. You just had to read this first.;)  
  
Second, I'm very sorry that this took so long. My kids were both REALLY sick and they needed me. They are better now. (I hope!) To make up for the delay, I wrote three times as much and gave you guys two chapters instead of just one.  
  
Third, I have an idea of what I want Enai's letter to say but I'm curious what you guys think. I have a feeling that some of you will have very different views. Let me know what you think.  
  
Thanks to everyone who reviews. I check everyday to see if I got new ones. So, THANK YOU!! 


	7. Comings and Goings, Part One

Disclaimer is the same as chapter one. This chapter contains some quotes The Return of the King.  
  
Author's Note at the end.  
  
On the Beach—Chapter Seven: Comings and Goings Part One  
  
Frodo was the portrait of patience. He stood in the sand at the end of the dock, waiting for the elven ship to release its passengers. He watched the moving figures on board trying to catch a glimpse of his long lost friend. He couldn't see him yet, but he could wait, if only for a few minutes more.  
  
Finally the ship released each of the world-weary passengers from captivity. One by one the elves stepped down upon the dock. Frodo did not recognize their faces or knew their names but he saw within them an overwhelming sense of relief. They had come to the end of their days of toil to their final peace.  
  
Two of them stopped and reached their hands up to help a small hobbit of greatly advanced years. The old fellow did not wave away their assistance. Once they set his feet firmly on the dock, he turned to each and thanked them gratefully and cheerfully, shaking their hands with warmth.  
  
Frodo felt a knot tense in his stomach.  
  
Sam.  
  
The years had etched deep lines around his eyes and taken the color from his curly hair, but in every manner of his being, Frodo recognized him. Had the passing of time changed his spirit or would he still be his Sam?  
  
Frodo had not aged a day since he left from the Gray Havens. He looked down at his hands, still the hands of a young hobbit. Was his soul as unchanged as his body? Even he could not answer that question. He had eluded rest as much as it eluded him, but he would keep his troubles from Sam. A part of Sam's life had ended or changed in a way that made him want to leave it. He may need healing of his own and Frodo would do whatever it took to see his friend well.  
  
He smiled in welcome as the elderly hobbit made his way down the dock toward the beach. He made slow progress leaning on a walking stick made from a fallen branch from the Party Tree. His old eyes squinted ahead but they had become too weathered by time for him to see clearly. He did not see Frodo waiting for him.  
  
As he stepped off the dock and onto the beach an amazing thing happened to him. The years melted away from his body like dirt being washed off the soles of muddy feet. As he filled his lungs with the sweet air of the Blessed Realm, youth and vitality spread throughout him, darkening his hair and wiping away the deepness of the lines on his face. Sam had no difficulty accepting the healing powers of the Undying Lands. He stood there just as Frodo remembered him from years ago, a sturdy hobbit full of youth with a face of everlasting innocence.  
  
Sam nearly stumbled in his surprise over his sudden transformation. Frodo reached out to steady him, catching his friend by the shoulder with his hand. "Hello, Sam," he said gently.  
  
Sam looked at him, tears of disbelief beginning to sting his eyes. "Mr. Frodo?" he asked in a tone that resembled fear. "Am I still dreaming?"  
  
The hand that gripped his shoulder squeezed tightly. "You're not dreaming at all, Sam," Frodo said. "It's real. It's me. You've come." The words came out of their past from a dark time only now to grace them in a place of light.  
  
They fell into each other's arms as a profound sense of relief washed over them both. Sam buried his face in his master's shoulder and sobbed unabashedly. "There were so many times when I wanted to come," he cried in strained words only Frodo could hear. "I tried not to be torn in two as you said, but sometimes when I wasn't careful enough, it just snuck up on me. Sometimes it would be like you were dead but I knew better. I never forgot."  
  
"I knew you wouldn't, Sam," Frodo said softly in his ear. He clutched him tightly. His arms had the strength to hold on for an eternity. "I knew you would come."  
  
Sam parted from him slightly to see Frodo's face. The sight was almost too much for him to bear. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Look at what an old fool I've become," he said almost embarrassed. "I can't stop my crying."  
  
Frodo touched Sam's face, cupping his cheek in his hand. He looked at him with gentle concern. "What's wrong, Sam?"  
  
"I'm feeling like I should have come sooner," he said with a growing smile to disguise his still streaming tears. He took another step back from Frodo, holding him at arm's length to take in his first full look of him. "It fills my heart to see you so well. All these years I've tried to put my mind at ease that you were healed. Something kept pulling at me that you weren't." He frowned at the thought of all of his needless worry. "I don't know what it was. Probably just bad memories." Suddenly he brightened. "But here you are, smiling and young like you'd never known a day of strife."  
  
Frodo swallowed a sudden feeling of guilt. Somehow over this great distance Sam had sensed his melancholy. How much longer could he hide it from him? He smiled warmly and clapped his arm around Sam's shoulders to lead him away from the dock. "Welcome to the Undying Lands," he declared with labored joy. "A great many wounds are healed here. You'll see soon enough." Perhaps his own as well. He held Sam closely to him as they walked along the beach. The smile Frodo had forced on his face became more genuine with each passing moment. "Tell me of the world, Sam. I've missed so much. I want to hear about everything. Tell me about the Shire and Merry and Pippin. And tell me of Rosie and you children."  
  
Sam had begun to slow and at this he stopped. Frodo looked to him with deep concern. His lip began to tremble and fresh tears welled in his round eyes. "Rosie's dead, Frodo," he said quietly.  
  
Frodo understood at last what had brought his beloved friend to the end of his days. He could only imagine his pain, so different from his own. Sam knew what he lost. Frodo could only guess and dream. "Oh, Sam," he called sadly. He pulled him back into his comforting embrace. "Poor Sam. I'm so sorry."  
  
They held each other for a long time as Sam cried over the loss of his wife. Was his decision to sail West a selfish one? Would his children still have need of him or did he better serve them this way? Elanor had wept as he left but he had to believe that she understood. Would she have been happier to have buried him in the ground when the sorrow and loss became too much for his old heart to bear? At least this way she could imagine her Papa alive and well on a beach across the sea. At least she could dream.  
  
Finally Sam's tears subsided and Frodo guided him along the beach away from the sea to his new home. He felt his master's arm around him and sighed in the comfort it brought him. He was right to have come, he decided. He had been a husband and a father. He had been mayor in the Shire longer than anyone could recollect. But beyond all of that he knew something else he was. A part of him that had always been with him. He belonged here, at his master's side. Time and great distance had separated them but fate had reunited them. Nothing could take him away now.  
  
"Come," Frodo said gently. "We shall mourn her together."  
  
TBC  
  
Author's note: Here it is. Hope you liked it. I almost thought it was too short but I found that for this, there was very little to say. As you can see I put the chapter title as "part one". This was meant to have more to it but that "more" will have it's own chapter. I just thought that I had made you guys wait long enough. I hope that this was worthy of the wait. It might help ease the pain left by Liz Huisman's heartwrenching "And the Angels Were Silent". A wonderful piece, btw. If you haven't read it, you should.  
  
The next chapter should really, honest to God, be the last chapter. I'm working hard but I tell you, I almost outdid myself on chapter five.( 


	8. Comings and Goings, Part Two

Disclaimer is the same as in Chapter One.  
  
Author's Note located at the end.  
  
On the Beach—Chapter Eight : Comings and Goings, Part Two  
  
Alone at her place of study Enaiowen viewed the culmination of so many years of waiting. She watched the reunion feeling very much like an intruder. He had allowed her to wait with him in this quiet place of beauty for so long she almost could not imagine that it would ever come to an end. No need to wait any more. She wanted to be happy for him and in a profound way she truly was. He had found a joy he had denied himself. To watch them together at last was like looking into the sun. Their brilliance hurt her eyes. She felt unworthy.  
  
He could be healed at last but not by her.  
  
Why had he let her wait with him? No one else sat with him on the beach. Only her. He saw something special within her that she couldn't see. He taught her more than of beasts and spirits. He taught her of herself, the value of peace and what it felt to be cherished. With him she no longer felt the crushing pressure of her destiny.  
  
Time and fate had caught up with them both. He had what he had long desired. She sighed deeply and began to turn away. It was right for her to leave. She had served her purpose to him. He no longer needed distraction. Her continued presence would merely interfere and the sadness of yet another good-bye would mar the perfection of his reunion.  
  
She no longer belonged on the beach. She turned her back to the sea. A letter would have to suffice.  
  
But she had not moved quickly enough. The wind carried her name over the sound of the waves. She had not escaped her teacher's detection. She looked over her shoulder to see him running through the sand to reach her. He pulled Sam behind him. The two had found it difficult to part from one another.  
  
Frodo wore a smile of undeniable joy as he caught up to her. Enaiowen tried her best to reflect his happiness no matter how pale her rendering might be. "Enai, this is Samwise," he beamed.  
  
Sam looked to her with awe. He couldn't help but think of the other great elven ladies he had known. Arwen personified the night, Galadrial the dawn. Enaiowen must be the sunset. She looked no less important. Her reddish hair shined in the sunlight with all the colors of the autumn trees. To his great amazement she bowed low to him. "It is a great and timely pleasure to finally meet you," she said with respect. She looked to him with a radiant smile that he found hard to believe was aimed at him. "Your master has waited long and patiently. I do hope that you did not hurry." Her voice sang with the warm affection of someone who had known him for years.  
  
His cheek flushed with red as he returned her bow. "No, ma'am," he replied earnestly. "I came when I was ready." He felt at a disadvantage. He knew nothing of her, save her great beauty but his master edged closer to her with a familiarity borne out of years of close friendship.  
  
Her smile endured. "That is the best time for any change," she stated. She straightened to her full height. She was small for an elf but to him she still appeared tall and graceful, dressed in the majestic manner any great elven lady should be.  
  
Sam felt Frodo's hold on him weaken until he finally let go. He turned to see his master's smile fade. Frodo's eyes focused on the elf as a frown creased his brow.  
  
"You're leaving, aren't you?" Frodo accused her quietly. He saw at once her cloak, her braids, her crest. He understood their meaning. Her lessons had ended. She looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her and terrible at the same time.  
  
Enaiowen's smile vanished. She turned away with shame knowing that she would cause distress. "Yes," she said softly.  
  
"Where are you off to?" Sam asked her innocently. He could sense a growing unease between the two that he did not understand. He did not expect explanations to be forthcoming.  
  
"I have been appointed Vice-Warden to the outer coast of the Western Continent in the New World," she replied, saying her title aloud for the first time. She did not face them. Her eyes stared far away.  
  
"Will it be an adventure?" Sam asked. Enaiowen could not help but meet his eyes. The kindness of his voice translated to her the years of devotion. The memory of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "It's been ages since I had an adventure but I've had enough of them sure enough," he continued. He laid a hand on Frodo's shoulder hoping to draw him out. "Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Frodo?"  
  
Frodo did not answer. He only looked at Enaiowen sadly.  
  
"I don't know if it will be an adventure, Mr. Samwise but it is my duty," she answered him. She wished that she had escaped and slipped away unseen. Her teacher stared at her hopelessly and her heart ached at her bad timing. She had no words to comfort him or herself. Sam's presence and his simple questions provided them their only solace.  
  
"When will you be coming back?" Sam asked. He truly did not understand the gravity of this parting. His mind had been filled with the idea that the Blessed Realm held no sad stories, no good-byes. What reason could anyone have to leave such a wondrous place?  
  
"Will you be back?" Frodo asked. He spoke to her voicing the only hope he had left. In his eyes, Sam saw the truth. His hope was lost. He was saying good-bye. He understood his master's pain. He held that same look in his eyes in the Gray Havens a lifetime ago.  
  
Enaiowen looked down and said in a small voice, "I don't know." Wardens weren't supposed to come back. She was to make her life in the New World now. Her father had been special. He had the unique task of being her guardian. She could not expect any special arrangement. "That depends on too many things that I cannot see from here," was all she could offer him. She tensed, trying to summon her resolve. Time was slipping away. Soon they would call for her. She did not have the luxury for a long good-bye. "I have been prepared for this step as far back in my life as I can recall."  
  
Frodo stiffened and swallowed hard. Something in her last statement chilled him. "You're ready then?" he asked.  
  
She would not look at him. Even to venture a glance would shatter her. "I didn't say that," she replied.  
  
Frodo reached for her hand. Her fingers felt like ice. "I'm not ready," he told her.  
  
With those simple words he had brought Enaiowen to her knees. They cut through her. Her resolve was once again lost. Their parting had been meant for a time far in their future. Not now. Not on this happy day. She still felt the need for his lessons, for the things he taught her that were not in books. Nothing in their lives or in their days on the beach had prepared them for this. Its coming had seemed like a bad dream that they could banish from their minds upon waking. "We both knew this day was coming," she said resignedly. "Just as we knew that Master Samwise would one day come. Now he is here."  
  
"And you are going," Frodo said as they leaned against one another. "Is it selfish of me to want both of you here?" he asked.  
  
"No," she sighed, "just impossible. I don't want to leave but I have to. You know that. My path has been set." She choked her last statement in a sob. The tears had built within her and they released themselves without her knowing. Even as they spilled down her face she could not wipe them away. "I wanted so badly to be grown about this. I wanted to make you proud but now here I am weeping like a child," she cried shamefully. "I'm sorry."  
  
He held her face in his hands and gently wiped her tears away with his fingertips. He had shed none of his own but his eyes held no less sorrow. " The absence of your tears would not have eased the pain of your leaving," he said quietly.  
  
She fell against him suddenly, hiding her face in his chest. Somehow he had felt it and did not stumble to catch her. Somehow he knew. He wrapped his arms around her and lowered his head to hers. "Nor has it given me any strength," she said, her words muffled against him. "I have accumulated all this knowledge and I possess so many skills." She lifted her head to face him. "It's all supposed to make me this formidable paladin but yet my heart is breaking and I haven't the strength to move."  
  
"You shall have what I can give you," Frodo whispered. If her strength should fail he'd will to her his own. If her heart should break…  
  
"We could wait for you," Sam offered in his small voice. He had watched the sad exchange feeling that somehow, irrationally he had been the cause. In all the years they had been apart he had not wondered of the friendships Frodo would forge. He had only hoped for his happiness. This elf must be very dear to him. How cruel that she must leave now. Did the divine powers perceive his master's loss and bring his Sam to comfort him?  
  
Enaiowen turned her tear-streaked face to him. For a moment she pictured the two hobbits sitting on the beach waiting for her. It seemed wrong, an act of devotion too grand for her worth. She shook her head. "No, I can't ask that," she said.  
  
"Why not?" Frodo protested.  
  
"To wait for me is to put your lives on hold. You have already done that for far too long." Enaiowen reached her hand out to Sam, to pull him back to his master's side, to where he belonged. "You are together now," she declared. "It is time for you to live. Don't wait for me."  
  
Frodo would not hear her. His waiting could not make her come back but it gave him hope. In the distance he heard pounding hooves approaching. Someone coming to take her away. His hands clutched at her cloak. He would not let her go. "You are a part of my life, Enai. To lose you now would be losing a part of myself."  
  
Sam had heard the approach as well. He understood immediately its meaning. He stepped around to protect the two. He would do all that he was able to prevent their parting even if it was just to buy them time.  
  
Enaiowen held just as tightly. She shook with desperation. Her eyes wide with sudden fear she pleaded to Frodo, "Ask me to stay." If you ask me to stay I will defy them.  
  
Frodo froze. He had not expected her request and did not fathom the entirety of its meaning for him. Her staying was a larger unknown than her leaving, filled with a hope for which he could not dare to reach. An image passed in his mind's eye, one that made his chest tighten. Echoes of laughter. He knew what it meant. The old weakness threatened to return. For a reason he could not explain, he became afraid. Imperceptively, he shook his head.  
  
She sensed his hesitation and nodded. "I know," she said, forcing a weak smile. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and pulled herself to her feet. "I don't know if I could have truly done it either."  
  
"For a moment," Frodo admitted sadly speaking of a promise he knew he had lost.  
  
She nodded again. "I know. For a moment," she repeated.  
  
The horse and its rider came within view. It was Gandalf on his beloved Shadowfax. He had provided her time by offering to collect her himself. Sam ran ahead to meet him, to hold him off if need be.  
  
With her hand still in his, Frodo pulled Enaiowen towards him for one last embrace. "I have no words to say for this," he said to her softly. "I cannot say good-bye."  
  
She kissed his cheek and whispered close to his ear, "So we shall say nothing more."  
  
She straightened and took her first steps away from him. Their hands remained together until only their fingertips touched and then they parted as well. She did not look back but he would watch her until she disappeared out of sight.  
  
As she passed, she placed her hand upon Sam's shoulder. She paused at his side. "I'm sorry, Sam," she said.  
  
Sam looked up at her with a frown, "For what, ma'am?" he asked.  
  
"I'm afraid I've quite ruined your day," she said. For a moment, his vision of her slipped. She no longer seemed the regal lady whose mere presence demanded respect. Beside him stood a simple girl in clothing that seemed too big for her. She was Frodo's friend and her leaving would hurt them both. He had only been in her presence for a handful of moments and he already felt the loss.  
  
But being the hobbit he was, he knew that hope still lived. He shook his head and smiled slightly. "Nonsense," he said, "It can't be ruined. It's not over yet."  
  
Enaiowen smiled and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. This time he did not blush. He watched as she climbed astride Shadowfax behind Gandalf. Without a word, the wizard reined the horse around and at the slightest encouragement the beast carried them away.  
  
  
  
With Sam by his side, Frodo found his way back to his home. He felt very old as if years had come and gone since he parted with Enaiowen on the beach, but less than an hour had passed. They had walked in silence with Sam's comforting arm around Frodo's shoulders.  
  
Sam watched him with concern. His master's mind seemed very far away.  
  
Frodo opened the door but he stopped, unable to cross the threshold. Sam peered inside. The interior reminded him of the days when Frodo lived with him in Bag End. Books and papers laid about in various stages of work. Notes in the margins of open pages. Diagrams and charts painstakingly drawn out. All of it sat waiting in this sunlit cheery room awaiting the view of eager eyes ready to learn.  
  
Sam gently pulled him in. "Come in, Mr. Frodo," he said.  
  
"She's lost to me now," Frodo said quietly from what seemed to be a great distance.  
  
Sam shut the door as Frodo sank into his chair by the fireplace. "I don't think so. She'll come back. You'll see." His tone was not cheerful and reassuring. He spoke as one with much experience. His youthful face belied the greatness of his years.  
  
"That may be, Sam," Frodo replied, "but duty changes a soul. It changed me."  
  
Sam stood before him. He looked closely at his master to see if could find what the years had done to him. "Not so, Mr. Frodo," he said gently. "At least, not completely." He crouched before him to place himself within Frodo's view. The sad hobbit could not help but face him. "It's still there, the hobbit you were before. He didn't go away. I still see him in your eyes when you smile. He's just a little lost behind all that your life has placed on you. She'll be a little lost too when she comes back."  
  
Frodo nodded weakly. He had nothing else to say as his thoughts consumed him. All these years together he never guessed the true origin of his dreams but now he knew. They began and ended with her. Without her even the memory of them would fade.  
  
Sam got back to his feet and left him in search of a kettle for tea.  
  
What change would come over Enaiowen in the New World? She could face its monsters with strength and steel but what of its people, a people shaped by the darkness which housed demons? This darkness would shape her as well. What of the prophecies which dictated her childhood? Would she avoid them in this haunted, dismal world? Or would fate find a way to bring them to her? Frodo stared into the quiet fireplace as question after question assailed him. The answers were effectively out of his control. He could protect her no longer.  
  
Sam slipped up to him silently and placed a cup of tea in his hand. He accepted the cup with a weak smile but did not drink. Sam seated himself on a nearby stool next to the desk. After a long silence, Frodo said, "I should have asked her to stay."  
  
Sam stared at his own tea contemplatively. "Would you have stayed if I had asked you?" he asked quietly.  
  
Frodo looked to him, startled. "Sam?" he asked with sudden concern. The reflection of their own parting had not occurred to him. In Sam's patient manner he revealed he was not just an observer. He had relived his own sorrow through his master's.  
  
"She knew she couldn't," Sam explained. "Just like you knew then." He looked up and met Frodo's eyes. A frown pulled the corners of his mouth downward. "I know how it hurts to be left behind."  
  
Frodo rose and reached for Sam's hand. "Oh Sam, I'm so sorry." Only now did he see the pain he had caused.  
  
Sam cupped both his hands around his master's. "Don't trouble yourself about it, Mr. Frodo. That's all passed now," he said reassuringly. He had set his tea next to an open book on the edge of the desk. On the book laid a letter. "For myself, at least," he added.  
  
Frodo placed his hand on Sam's shoulder. "I never meant to hurt you, Sam."  
  
Sam clapped the top of Frodo's hand with his own. "I know you didn't, Mr. Frodo. I know," he said. "I'm sure she didn't want to hurt you either." He released his master's hand and reached for his tea. Instead of picking up his tea, he picked up the letter. "Everybody's got something they have to do in their lives. You did. And now this is something she has to do." He handed Frodo the letter.  
  
Frodo's brow creased with worry as he turned the letter over in his hands. No one needed to identify its creator. What new surprise would be contained on this simple piece of paper? Would it bring him new worries or ease his fears? He returned to his chair and opened the letter.  
  
I cannot say good-bye as I would wish to for if given the choice, I would never have to. I am what you have made me, for good or ill. Please trust that I will do what I must and by God's grace I shall return to you. For you have taught me the true meaning of home, something I shall carry with me to the end of my days.  
  
Your Enai  
  
Frodo closed his eyes and clutched the letter to his breast. The tears came silently this time and at the first sight of them Sam returned to the floor at his master's feet. He laid his hand upon Frodo's knee and Frodo reached out to grasp it.  
  
"Nevermind what she says, Mr. Frodo," Sam said suddenly, his voice full of hope. "We'll wait for her."  
  
Frodo opened his eyes and saw his Sam there to comfort him. In spite of his sadness he began to smile. The beach called to him with renewed purpose. Waiting did not delay his life. It gave it new meaning. That was where the healing took place. "Thank you, Sam."  
  
The end…  
  
Author's note: I know that for some of you this was not the ending that you were hoping for. This was, however, the ending I had intended from the start. Frodo's happiness was never meant to be a quick fix. With Sam's presence and a couple of revelations, he is at least a little closer.( I do plan on doing a couple of follow-up stories, time permitting (starting with one called "William"). I also have a prequel story playing in my head detailing the omen surrounding Enai's birth ("Choice of Blood or Fire"). The story that has taken the forefront, however, has nothing to do with my melancholy elf. If I get so inspired, I'll put it to paper. It will be an AU story where Frodo actually kept the ring. It will be like nothing you have ever read. Be on the look out. It will be called, "Hostile Takeover".  
  
If you read "Buffy: the Vampire Slayer" stories, I highly recommend mine (shameless plug!!). I do plan on continuing "Blessed".  
  
Thank you so much for all of your encouragement. Thank you for your concern with my kids' health. Thank you, October, for your correction. I fixed it. I look forward to reading work from all of you and hope that I continue to entertain you. 


End file.
